


Brendon's Granny

by Forsecondary



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Anyway yeah, M/M, More Fluff, brallon, brendon in his high school musical merch smh, if u wanna count her, its fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forsecondary/pseuds/Forsecondary
Summary: Brendon has a runaway granny.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So if you like this let me know and I'll continue it!!

Snow days weren’t uncommon in Chicago. Not at all. Generally speaking, if you live in Chicago, it’s expected for you to have adjusted to working with snowstorms, frozen pipes, and icy streets. That you have a good closet full of coats and fluffy blankets at the ready. 

Dallon certainly had and he’d come to enjoy the snowy days he could spend working from home, with a hot cup of coffee and a blanket. 

However, he was well aware of the danger of accidents when everything is so slippery. An accident involving an ice slick porch steps and bags of groceries made him sure of that. So, when he was approached by a small old woman in the parking lot of Bashas, requesting that he walk her home because she was afraid of slipping on the ice, he was more than happy to step up to the plate. 

When he says small, he means small. This woman looked a little like a hunchback, probably barely over five foot. Maybe ninety pounds and definitely at least, like, eighty years old. Her purple coat looked as if it might've been a bright color at one point, but it just looked dusty and old today. Its vintage style matched her green hat and beetle broach. She had an all around ghost-like feel. As if Dallon was being approached by a spirit from the 1900s at his car. 

She’d waddled her way across the busy lot, not pausing for any cars, her eyebrows creased with determination. When she reached him, she’d taken a hold of Dallon’s forearm where he was loading some grocery bags into the back of his car. 

“Young man.” She’d said, in an absurdly frail voice. “My home is just a couple blocks down the road, I must ask that you walk with me.” She explained, in a stern tone. Dallon immediately experienced flashbacks to his preschool teacher, Miss. Pursky, who had talked in a similarly fragile tone, and hated children with a burning passion. 

Dallon licked his lips, glancing down at his groceries and back at the woman, not answering before she gave an irritated “Well?” 

With a sigh, he closed his trunk. “Of course, miss, I’d be happy to walk you.” He said, sweetly. He’d always been a strong believer in respecting your elders. 

She didn’t talk much on the walk. In fact, she seemed much too preoccupied sucking in air as if she’d just run a marathon. Her tiny steps were nothing in comparisons to Dallon’s long strides. Her hand stayed firm on Dallon’s forearm and within the ten minutes of walk, Dallon was fairly certain she’d /almost/ fallen a good ten or so times. It’s probably much better that he came with her than didn’t. 

Her house fit the old lady stereotype quite well. Her porch and deck were white, but the paint was chipping to reveal the old brown wood underneath. She had plants overgrowing in her yard. Rose bushes that were out of control. Trees that were way too large for her little house. And.. And a very concerned looking boy talking on the phone, standing on the deck of the house, a cigarette in his free hand. 

“I already went to the flower place, Mom, she wasn’t there-” He overheard him say, as they approached, and he felt the woman sigh beside him. 

“My grandson.” She grumbles. It seemed perhaps the woman leaning on him for support was, in fact, a runaway grandma. He felt a little like a criminal with her on his arm currently. “Brendon, take a breath, your face is getting red.” She calls, in that grouchy voice that once again, sent him back to his glue eating days. 

The boy’s head raised at the sound and his shoulders sagged in obvious relief. “Holy shit Granny, I had the entire family on the line.” He shouts back, telling his mom to “call off the search” and that “she decided to show up” before rudely hanging up. 

“What’d you do that for?” She asked as Dallon held her up, leading her up the steep steps, the wood of the deck creaking under their weight. 

“You can’t just run off like that! You’re like a hundred, what was I supposed to think?” He huffs, and “granny” doesn’t even say thank you before she’s disappearing safely into her house, the boy she’d called Brendon left standing outside, left alone Dallon. 

Brendon was young. He had a soft face, big lips, pretty eyes. He looked like he must be cold, standing in hoodie and flannel pajama bottoms. His eyes looked /tired/. It was clear he had had quite the morning. 

“Uh-” Dallon starts, bringing his cold hands together. “She- Uh- Asked me to walk her home-” 

The boy’s face softened, and a hand came up to run through his thin hair. “Don’t worry about it.” He assured. “Not your fault she’s a kook.” Dallon chuckled, and Brendon found his lips pulling into a smile alongside him. “She thinks she can just go running off whenever as if she’s not eighty two and hasn’t had two strokes.” He mutters, clearly having experienced his runaway granny once or twice. 

“Does she bring boys like me home often?” He teases. He wondered if Brendon lived here. After all, it was about eight AM Saturday morning. Why else would be hanging out at his Granny’s in his… His torn up, thin, not warm at all flannel pajama bottoms and worn out Wildcats hoodie. 

He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his arms. “Oh, yeah, she’s a real cougar.” He plays right along. 

“I sure thought I was special.” He says, in mock disappointment, and the glistening smile he was getting from the boy was more than he could ever ask for. His eyes, while looking rather tired, sparkled a little as they spoke and his smile was wide, lips full and frankly gorgeous. “I don’t suppose you stay here with her?” He asked, in a more serious tone. 

Brendon’s eyebrows shot up as if he was surprised Dallon was interested in speaking beyond polite jokes before he split. “Oh, uh, yeah, she’s getting pretty old… If you haven’t noticed. I’m just taking care of her a little.” 

“That’s sweet.” Dallon returns. 

“Not as bad as it might sound.” Brendon furthered. “I mean, other than what a pain in my ass the entire thing is-” He clarifies (Or… Confuses? He certainly did not leave Dallon anymore clear on how Brendon felt about his Granny before he started speaking than after) “it’s alright…” His words trailed off. “Anyhow-” He came back to Earth, giving him a charming smile. “If I could take you out for coffee or something… In thanks, I’d really love to.”

Dallon grinned. “I’d like that.”


End file.
